I dicided to break this section into two smaller chapters instead of one really large one.

For all of you who are new to the story, stay tuned...Nate is on his way. As for all of you who have kept up the journey, thank you.

I was more excited about Nate when I first set out to write this story...now I am sad about Alistair (sigh).

No turning back! Galesong1234

Chapter 13

No Glittering Gem

(Chandra)

I stood in the middle of the heart and soul of Ferelden. Denerim was not quite the glittering jewel I had expected. It was a mecca for trade and commerce, along with poverty and despair. The aroma of Antivian perfume rose above the sweat and filth of misfortunate souls. Even in its pungency, it could not dispel the smell of rotting vegetables and sewage. Bright Orlaisian fabrics floated in the sluggish wind adding color to the brown cluttered masses that resembled houses. While the vendors, selling their wares, became a singsong menagerie of chortles and grunts.

"Sten was right," I chuckled to myself, "Ferelden did smell like wet dogs."

"What do you find so amusing," Alistair nudged me playfully.

"Oh, you know," I mused, "Those snorting sounds you make when you sleep."

"Snorting sounds?" he looked crestfallen.

"Yeesss – snorting sounds," I pushed the tip of my nose back for emphasis, "As in oink-oink."

"Oh, really?" Alistair chuckled, "Because I had the distinct feeling that…you were referring to yourself."

"I don't snore," I said vehemently.

"No, but you do talk in your sleep," he insisted.

"And pray tale, good sir," I folded my hands together demurely and rested my chin on them, "What do I say?"

"That you find me charming, witty and…," Alistair rocked on his heals a self-satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "…did I mention, quite handsome."

I rolled my eyes, "Don't forget lack-brain and thickheaded."

"Oh, dear lady, you wound me to the core," while he made stabbing motions to his heart.

"Perish the thought," I raised my arm and dramatically pressed the back of my wrist to my forehead, "That I might swoon."

"Then I'll just have to swoop down," he pulled me into his arms and rubbed his nose against mine, "And catch you."

"I remember clearly," I jabbed him with my forefinger, "You saying…swooping is bad."

"Nothing is ever bad with you, my love," he reached for my hand and brought it to his lips, "Except being without you."

"Hmmm," I smirked, "You say that now – you just wait."

"Oh ho, is that a threat," He arched his manly brow.

"I never threat," I turned and batted my lashes innocently, "Only promise. Besides, I can always turn you into a toad, you know." It brought to mind the memory of our first meeting, when he asked if I was a mage or not.

"Then it seems…I am quite safe," he folded his hands behind his head and smiled smugly, "Because I'm always…nice."

I stretched out my arms and wiggled my fingers, "Just for that I should…"

"Come here, you," he pulled me to him, "Have I told how much I love you today?"

"No," I pursed my lips and tapped them deliberately, "But I'm always open to overtures of affection."

"I'll just have to fix that," he brushed his lips across mine, "Won't I?"

"Mmmm," I wound my arms around his neck and returned his kiss. Isochronally, our tongues sought and fleeted while our thoughts danced around the obvious.

We walked around the vendor's carts, now and again stopping to enjoy their wares. Sometimes I would run ahead to admire some interesting token, only to have Alistair pull me back to his side. I smiled and laughed at his silly jokes. Occasionally, Alistair would stop to kiss me. For a brief time we forgot that we were grey wardens and he was going to be a king. In that, there was anonymity. To any spectator we were two lovers enjoying the day.

We stood before the entrance of Eamon's estate. "Shall we, my dear?" Alistair motioned, "After all, we have a date with destiny."

"After you, my lord," I curtsied.

We had barely enough time to brush the dirt from our feet when we were personally greeted by Eamon, "I've been expecting you. It seems your arrival has not gone unnoticed."

There was no time to ponder Eamon's words as he extended his hand in greeting, "Loghain, this is…an honor, that the Regent would find time to greet me personally. You remember Alistair and the other grey warden."

"Considering Ostagar, perhaps we need a better general," Alistair might have chosen to remain diplomatically quiet, but I held no such qualms.

"Ah, the grey warden," Loghain's sharp features strained to remain composed, "I thought we might meet again. You have my sympathies on what happened to your order. It is unfortunate that they chose to turn against Ferelden,"

Alistair stiffened beside me, I imagined he assimilated Loghain's blatant lack of recognition. I shot Alistair a fleeting glance, his outrage was masked by his uncharacteristic placidity.

I lifted my chin and addressed Loghain, "I don't accept the sympathies of deserters and regicides."

"You should curb you tongue," the Regent threatened, "This is my city and no safe place to speak treason for anyone," the vein in his forehead pulsated beneath his angry red features.

Loghain turned to Eamon; I was no more that just a discarded nuisance, "There is talk that your illness left you forever feeble."

There conversation continued, the Regent's civilities no longer held my interest. I studied the man behind Loghain openly. He had remained silent during our exchange. His beak-like nose hooked over straight thin lips on his pinched face.

"How long you've been away from court, Eamon?" as if Loghain didn't already know, "Don't you remember Rendan Howe? Arl of Amaranthine, Tern of Highever…"

"And the current Arl of Denerim," Rendan Howe cut in, "Since Urien's unfortunate fate at Ostagar the Regent has been…generous to those who prove Loyal."

I winced in visible shock, "That's a lot of titles for one man to have." Howe's flyspeck grey eyes casually assessed me, his summation dismissing. "One day you will not be so lucky," I quickly recovered.

"Don't interrupt, churl…your betters are talking," warned Loghain's personal lackey.

Ser Cauthrien was a thin faced young woman with dark hair that was severely tied back. She was never far from Tern Loghain. She was rumored to be by Loghain's side during the fatal battle at Ostagar where Loghain quit the field, leaving the grey wardens and King Cailan to die in battle.

"Enough, Cauthrien, this is not the time or the place," Loghain warned, "I had hoped to talk you down from this rash course, Eamon. Our people are frightened. Our king is dead. Our land is under siege…"

"You're the one who divided Ferelden," I practically frothed.

Loghain's eyes narrowed, "I was not talking to you."

"I cannot forgive what you've done, Loghain," Eamon was resolute, "Perhaps the maker can, but No I. Our people deserve a king of the Theirin bloodline. Alistair will be the one to lead us to victory in this blight."

"Oh, is that all I have to do? No pressure," Alistair chimed in with his usual glibness.

I shot Alistair a quick glance and silently mouthed, "Way to go." He simply clinched his jaw and ran an impatient hand through his disheveled hair.

"The Emperor of Orlais thought I could not bring him down," Loghain threatened before he and his entourage turned and left.

"What do we do now?" I asked Eamon not the least bit affronted.

He had purposely dropped my name at the beginning of the meeting. He said he did not hold any ill feelings toward me, for the death of his son, but I was wary none-the-less.

"Calling the Landsmeet is only the start," Eamon regarded Alistair, "We need eyes and ears in the city. Loghain has been here for some time. It can be assumed the roots of all his schemes begin here. We have no small task ahead of us."

"As soon as the others arrive, I will dispatch…," I began.

"We'll dispatch the Zevran and Lelianna," Alistair interrupted.

"Yes…Zev's assassin skills, along with Leli's bard skills, will be quite useful," I felt slighted. Alistair refused to acknowledge me as he basked in the presence of his uncle.